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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27843520">Away from everything we've ever known</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/arimred/pseuds/arimred'>arimred</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dreamwastaken, GeorgeNotFound - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Castles, Fluff, Knight AU, M/M, Pining, Swearing, another knight/prince dnf fic, ballrooms, enemies to friends to lovers?, glares, hatred all around, light smut possibly??, mutual hatred, okay legit dont know what to write, slight alcohol problems, slowburn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:21:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,234</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27843520</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/arimred/pseuds/arimred</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been six weeks.<br/>Six terrible, awful weeks.<br/>Approximately one thousand hours.<br/>And Dream had hated every goddamn minute of it.<br/>He hated having to protect Prince George.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>GeorgeNotFound/Dream</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Six weeks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Background: each ___ line switches perspective. Italicized text in quotes is always personal thoughts. Dots mean time break. This is my first time ever writing, so go easy :) (NOTE: I DO NOT IRL SHIP. This is based off of their characters, and if either parties change their minds on fanfic, I will take this down immediately.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Dream </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>It had been six weeks.</p><p>Six terrible, awful weeks.</p><p>Approximately one thousand hours.</p><p>And Dream had hated every goddamn minute of it. Hated that his squad had been chosen to take over for the traitors. Hated that he was stolen away from his life as a city guard.  Hated he was forced to change his entire plan. Hated that his family was used as blackmail. Hated to be ripped away from everything he'd ever known.</p><p>Most of all, he hated having to protect Prince George.</p><p>The ungrateful twat.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I wish his old guard had finished what they started.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dream shook his head, trying to erase that idea from his mind. That was a despicable, treasonous thought.</p><p>And he hated that there was a layer of truth behind the words.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> George </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>George swirled his fourth glass of brandy around, nearly spilling it while chewing on his lip.</p><p>This was a common occurrence. The drinking.</p><p>It was starting to become a problem.</p><p>But there was no other way to banish certain thoughts from his head. The betrayal. The deceit. The <em> hurt </em>. He couldn’t believe that it had almost been two months. Almost two months since the people who swore to protect him had planned to do the opposite.</p><p>Two months since the people he trusted and admired and loved had broken his every bit of faith in humanity.</p><p>7 weeks since his father's coffers had started to turn into wine and liquors.</p><p>One thousand two hundred hours since everything went to shit.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dream </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Dream missed the cobblestone pathways. He missed the grimy candle-lit street lamps, he missed the drunks stumbling around in the young hours of the morning.</p><p>He missed his old job, where there was a <em> variety</em>.</p><p>Where he could patrol the streets, looking after and helping the population.</p><p>Where he could talk to his friends, interact with the public.</p><p>He missed the place where he thrived.</p><p>Now, he was stuck in a dusty old castle, looking after some primped up pretty boy like he was a nanny. Insulting.</p><p>Dream was on his fourth hour of guard duty, placed under His Royal pain-in-the-ass's balcony. Four hours was a lot when you're standing in heavy boots and holding a loaded crossbow. His squad of 6, including him, worked in a rotation around the clock. One posted in the garden underneath the prince's balcony, and two posted at the main entrance to George’s rooms.</p><p>All the time.</p><p>Depending on the day, and which shift they had, the group had other duties like guarding the main hall, helping in the kitchens, and of course time for rest. They swapped who was at the main doors, wanting to limit awkward interactions with the prince as much as possible. There were too many unanswered “hello, your Highness” for any of them to feel welcomed. </p><p>Dream really just wanted to sit down. </p><p>His sleep schedule had become nonexistent since moving, at the fault of the new mattress and alien environment. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Despicable. Utterly despicable” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dream couldn’t take one look around the castle, at the walls, at the gardens, at the numerous people swirling around him in some sort of convoluted dance of fortune without wanting to scream. The lavishness and unnecessary wealth that the castle holds disgust him. Not when there are so many who have so much less but deserve everything more. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “These thoughts are dangerous. Especially when protecting another’s life. Stop getting distracted, Dream.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dream sharpened his gaze, looking out over the dark garden. Shifting his attention after a few minutes, he looked over to the clock tower hopefully. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Fuck.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Two more hours. Dream let out a rattling sigh. He could see his breath. </p><p>God, he wanted to sit down. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> George </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>George was beginning to despise his room. It felt too small. This was absurd because of its size, but the enclosed space and stale air had driven him to look towards the balcony, needing the outdoor atmosphere. Dragging the comforters off his bed and walking out the doors, George tossed them on the ground and promptly collapsed on the pile of goose feathers and silk. </p><p> </p><p>With only the stars and the moon to bear witness, George, being quite tipsy, drifted off into a deep and dreamless slumber. </p><p>•••</p><p>The clock tower woke him up. His first good sleep in a week and the stupid tower woke him up. Jesus Christ. Pulling himself from the pile of warmth, George stood and walked to the stone railing. Leaning on it heavily, still unsteady on his feet, he looked below him at the gardens beneath. In the moonlight, all he could make out were a few white roses and the top of a blond man’s head.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> oh no.” </em></p><p> </p><p>For six weeks this man has been around, supposedly guarding him against any terrors that crawl around every nook and cranny of the castle. For six weeks this man has haunted George’s rooms, the ire clear in his eyes, and George was getting nervous that history might repeat itself. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dream </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Dream knew that if he turned his head and looked up, the prince would be standing at the edge of the balcony. After the tower completed its 12 bells, signifying the end of his shift, he could hear George grumbling and shuffling to the railway. As Dream turned to enter the castle, he glanced at the prince, unable to hide the distaste in his face. It surprised him to see the prince giving him the same look.</p><p>“<em> Maybe I should start wearing a mask” </em> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> George </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>George just wanted to understand. Why? Why did this man look at him with such contempt? They’ve never even had a conversation and the guard decides that he’s the scum of the earth? </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Fine. Fuck him. I’m done trying to understand people’s actions.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Bitterly, George turned away, breaking the staring contest. As he wandered into his rooms, his vision turned blurry as he fell onto the bed. </p><p>He hated this feeling of emptiness, of the loneliness, of the longing for something that was long gone.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Good riddance” </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dream </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> “Why me.” </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey uh, I hope that was okay! please leave constructive criticism it would be greatly appreciated :) not sure what my upload schedule will be like, I'm pretty busy with school rn. And I know that it switched perspectives A LOT this chapter, but that was just to lay the groundwork, there's going to be fewer switches in the future. Anyway, hope you enjoyed, see you next time :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Trapped in your head</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>CW // implied suicidal thoughts!! please do not read if that will make you uncomfortable</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Background: each ___ line switches perspective. Italicized text in quotes is always personal thoughts. Dots mean time break. This is my first time ever writing, so go easy :) (NOTE: I DO NOT IRL SHIP. This is based on their characters, and if either party changes their minds on fanfic, I will take this down immediately.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> George </em>
</p><hr/><p>George woke up screaming. He could feel his heart racing, his forehead and upper lip sweating. His mind going a mile a minute, racing too quickly to have any coherent thoughts. </p><p>He pinched himself. Hard.</p><p>Taking in large gulps of air, nearly hyperventilating, he collapsed back on his pillows and rubbed his eyes until he saw stars</p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><p>He heard his door open. This happened at least twice a week. He woke up screaming, and a guard would barge in and make sure no one was trying to slit his throat. </p><p>George ignored the guard, and after seeing that there was no imminent danger, the knight shut the door softly. </p><p>
  <em> "FUCK." </em>
</p><p>George could barely go a night without reliving what had happened two months ago. Couldn’t forget how he was ushered from his bed by a maid, couldn’t forget how he was rushed towards the throne room, away from the attempted murder. </p><p>Couldn’t forget the last-ditch effort of a single arrow. </p><p>The arrow that missed the intended target.</p><p>The arrow that should have hit him. If she hadn’t thrown her body at the last second.</p><p>The arrow that had struck his mother in the center of her throat.</p><p>The arrow that shattered his mind.</p><p>He could still hear the impact.</p><p>
  <em> “I wish they hadn’t woken me up. I wish the plan worked. I wish I wasn’t here anymore.” </em>
</p><p>That bitter thought brought his breathing to a halt. He was lucky to have his life. He could not disrespect his mothers’ sacrifice. She gave her life so he could keep his. It was the only thing keeping him going.</p><p>~~~</p><p>
  <em> There was someone pulling on his shoulders. Someone with soft hands. Hands that didn’t match the noise. The incessant noise. He tried to roll over, to fall back asleep, to forget about the hands and the clatter.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It would have worked if someone hadn’t slapped him across the face.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> George sat up so quickly he felt a bit dizzy. Slowly shaking his head, he saw the woman to his right screaming with tears in her eyes. Insanely confused, his ears starting to pick up sound after a brief hiatus, he could hear his old wetnurse’s words. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hurry Your Highness! Please. GET UP.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He registered the pain in her voice, the urgency. He had no idea what was going on. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She started to lead him through his bedroom, quickly stepping over a body. A body? He couldn’t make out the face but saw his family's crest, the blue of the uniform. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What the hell was happening. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Madam Clairn was still pulling him along. They passed two more bodies. These ones, he could recognize. Both his personal knights, both with wide smiles engraved across their throats. He could smell the tang and iron from the blood. The realization stole his breath away, and he started to wretch. The nurse kept pulling his arm, tugging him through the doors and many hallways of the path to the great hall. Three of six. Half. Half of his trusted guards, dead in his rooms, with no sight of the other three. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As they rounded the last corner, George could see the rest of his family sitting on their thrones, surrounded by nobles, court, and more guards than he had ever seen in his life. Nearing his parents, his mother caught his eye through the chaos. She leaped out of her seat, sprinting for her son. Tossing her arms around his neck, George could hear the sobs wracking through her body. Leading them both back towards his father, George met his gaze warily. As soon as he sat down, his father leaned forward and started answering the questions in George’s eyes. George could hear his voice shake as he started to explain.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “There was… a plan. A planned assassination, with unknown motives as of yet. Half of your guard, the three not on duty tonight, were planning on... killing you in your sleep. There's still one out there. Two are in custody, under questioning. We believe that the three climbed in from the balcony, and... Took care. Of the rest. They didn’t go quietly. One was able to alert the guard outside, who in turn ran and retrieved another squad. By the time they arrived, the three stationed guards had lost the fight. Since the traitors didn’t realize the word got out, we assume they were taking a moment to regroup and breathe outside your door. When the new squad burst through the doors, one took off, sprinting out towards the library. The other two had serious injuries, so they didn’t make it far. I’m... I’m so sorry son.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> George was struggling to process the information. Maybe this was a dream. A terrible nightmare, where his trusted guard turned sour and his father was trying to explain why. But the slap felt real. His mother’s embrace and her tears on his shoulders were no trick either.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“<em> What the fuck </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Everything from there was a blur in George's memory. His father’s downturned face, his mother’s red eyes and ragged breathing.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The shouts of alarm as a knight in the crowd started to notch his crossbow.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The twang of the arrow released from the weapon, heading straight for him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The tackling of the guard by those around him, the sight of his mother running towards him out of his peripheral vision.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her back in front of his body.  </em>
</p><p><em> The </em>thwack <em>of the arrow as it entered her neck, the slump of her body heading for the floor as George grabbed her and lowered her carefully.  </em></p><p>
  <em> The realization that nothing could save her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Everything went black as the stress and despair on his mind took his consciousness. </em>
</p><p>•••</p><p>
  <em> George woke up in his bed, his father sitting on a chair beside him with his head resting on the bed. Looking out of his window with glazed eyes, he could just see the edge of the sun breaching the horizon. Tears welled in his eyes as he remembered what had happened a handful of hours ago. He looked over to his father, the water spilling over onto his cheeks, making his eyelashes heavy. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And so they sat there, father and son, broken royalty, and started to mourn for the loss of their Queen. </em>
</p><p>~~~</p><p>George still remembered the 7-hour council meeting that happened a week after the attempted assassination. </p><p>Obviously. </p><p>It was the longest fucking argument he’d had in his entire life. </p><p>Twenty men sitting around a table for a full day, arguing and bickering about the next steps. As much as he appreciated the concern for his life, the constant yelling and overlapping voices gave him a headache. Very quickly. </p><p>After questioning the guards, they were able to get a partial story. It wasn’t much, but someone was planning on murdering him, and when his parents passed without any heirs, a cousin would presumably take his place.</p><p>Problem was, they didn’t know which cousin. </p><p>Through letters and paid-off servants, his guards had managed to get personal information out of the castle to whichever party wanted him dead. </p><p>Great.</p><p>So, the genius plan put in place was to hire the best squad of city guards, with the solid theory that since they never applied for the castle, they wouldn’t have been hired to assassinate the prince. </p><p>And now Prince George had <em>city guards </em>protecting his life instead of highly trained professionals. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Wonderful.” </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey all! Sorry, that took a while- I have heavy writing courses this quad and was feeling a little burnt out :) please leave comments with constructive criticism! mainly a George background chapter- planning on doing dream next :]</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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